Now Sleep
by BestINeverHad
Summary: Just some Stendan fluff. Steven can't sleep after learning of Brendan's past.


Steven lay in bed, watching Brendan's chest rise and fall as he slept. Brendan had told him everything tonight. Everything that happened with Walker; snogging, sleeping together, finding out he was an undercover, bent copper and a complete psycho set on revenge, about being tied up with his dad and the showdown where he kicked him in front of a train. He told him about Mick and Joel, the torture and accidental death. He told him about Florence and why he killed her, how he was distraught and wasn't thinking straight. But the bit that shook Steven up the most? Finding out the truth about Seamus. Steven had thought that Brendan had experienced the same things as he had, just being knocked about. That's why he didn't understand why Brendan's mood changed whenever Seamus was in the room, why he wouldn't accept anything from him, why he wouldn't touch him when Seamus was in the room. Steven couldn't help but feel terrible. After everything he said to Brendan, yelling at him for not dealing with things like a man, calling him immature. Then he found out why and God, the truth made him feel sick. Absolutely ready to vomit and drown in his silent tears. He still felt sick. How could Brendan have gone through all that and still turned out to be the man he is today? Fair enough, Brendan is a messed up man, a sociopathic nutter. But he's changing. And even though he is what he is, he's made so many selfless sacrifices to protect the people he loves. After everything he's been through. But no one sees that, do they? They all see the bad side of him, the dark side of Mr. Brady. Then again, he does do it in the shadows, doesn't he? That's just who Brendan is. Steven couldn't sleep, not with all that new information whirling through his brain. He felt like he could understand Brendan on a deeper level now. Almost work out why he does what he does. Then a new thought rose to Steven's mind. Brendan must hate having Seamus as his middle name, when it's the name of a man who sexually abused him. All these thoughts, they were keeping Steven up and they weren't likely to go away any time soon. He placed his arm across Brendan and snuggled to his back, but he still couldn't find rest. He tossed and turned and flipped and rolled. Nothing was working. He threw his pillow from underneath him, only then did Brendan wake up, because he managed to knock off a lamp.

"What are ye doing, Steven?" Brendan asked, a sleepy croak in his voice.

"I can't sleep. My mind won't rest." Steven complained, whiney and child-like. Brendan rolled his eyes and turned over, placing his arm over his boyfriend and nudging him into his strong front. Steven obliged immediately, it wasn't often Brendan offered to cuddle. His arms made their way around Brendan's muscular body and he clung on, feeling warmer and a familiar sense of comfort that he'd never tire of. He couldn't help but smile when he felt Brendan's arm tighten around his body, his lips and moustache on the top of his head.

"Just relax, Steven." Brendan whispered, hearing Steven giggle a little. "What?"

"Your moustache tickles when you speak." Steven grinned.

"Ye love it really." Brendan smirked, lifting his head and looking down into his boyfriend's eyes.

"I know." Steven smiled, looking up at him. "Bren…"

"Yes, Steven?"

"You're gorgeous." Steven muttered, seemingly losing himself in Brendan's deep blue pools.

"Ye getting soppy, Steven?" Brendan smirked.

"Just accept the bloody compliment, ight." Steven scoffed.

"Okay." Brendan chuckled, "Steven…"

"Yup?"

"You're gorgeous too." Brendan smiled and Steven's heart skipped a beat. That must've been the first real compliment he'd ever received from Brendan. He couldn't help but grin, all goofy and bashful. "Now go to sleep."

"Love you…"

"Love ye too. Sleep." And finally, Steven could sleep, wrapped up in the warmth of his boyfriend's arms. Brendan Brady. He still couldn't believe it. He felt like the luckiest guy in the World.


End file.
